


Conflict of Interest

by Ladyfun



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 03:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4944811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladyfun/pseuds/Ladyfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>summary: One-shot. The novice ministry employee, Agent Victoire Weasley, has a decision to make. Move departments, prematurily, to work with her adored "Golden Girl" Aunt, before Hermione leaves the ministry; or stay put, and wonder... what if? Destiny teaches that sometimes a girl should worry more about opportunities taken, rather than lost…and suddenly, the young agent realizes, regardless of choice, she's in, over her head. Femslash!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conflict of Interest

Title: Conflict of Interest

Author: Ladyfun

Rating: M-ish

Paring: Hermione Granger/Victoire Weasley

Summary: One-shot. The novice ministry employee, Agent Victoire Weasley, has a decision to make. Move departments, prematurily, to work with her adored "Golden Girl" Aunt, before Hermione leaves the ministry; or stay put, and wonder... what if? Destiny teaches that sometimes a girl should worry more about opportunities taken, rather than lost…and suddenly, the young agent realizes, regardless of choice, she's in, over her head. Femslash!

Disclosures: Don't own this. Any of it. As we all know, its JK Rowling's domain. Only non-profit muggle fun, here, people.

A/N #1: I have no idea if Blaise Zabini is really this much of an ass, or if he is even a "he," technically. Just go with it. Willing suspension of disbelief.

A/N #2: Obviously, I don't condone drinking 'as an effective problem solving method. It just gets one liver failure, truncal obesity, land eaving one with generally with worse problems. However, mia culpa, I did use it as a cheap literary device in this one shot. Sorry!

A/N #3: This evolved from a discussion over random HP topics, recently. To wit: who the heck are all these second gen people? Why does everyone know so much about them? Was there invisible text in that damn epilogue that I missed in HP7 in invisible ink? Cause folks sure seem to have some strong convictions, as though its canon (Especially regarding Fleur's kids! Why? N.B. Dominique is always the lemon, never her sister or anyone else….Victoire must marry Teddy and have 4 kids, its preordained…etc. I found myself feeling sorry for the gal, Victoire, for being so pigeonholed. What if she doesn't want to get married at 24 with 4 kids? Ergo, I decided to break her out, in the best of ways, of course. (Really. Hermione. Just sayin'... ) Consider it a public service. Thanks for reading.

Ministry of Magic, Great Britain.  
Circa February, 2019

She was always stuck by how grey everything was, in this building. Even the food in the cafeteria took on a grayish hue, if you'd been here, at least a year. Or, perhaps, one just loses rods and cones and the ability to see and interpret colors, altogether. Case in point: the young employee's boss, a high dour man, who most certainally sees in the world in grey hues, and greyer hues, and perhaps, black.

Her boss, the Minister of Magic, himself.

He seemed bored, before he even started speaking. "Agent Weasley, we've discussed your career trajectory, many times, prior to today. I thought we had a plan, in place-"

The blonde agent forcibly held her knee down, to stop figiditing, under the desk. She attempted to speak with a calm she didn't feel. She nodded, in agreement, trying not to rush her excited speech. "Yes, Minister, we did. However, certain factors have changed, since we originally met at our last career counseling, sir."

He arched his eyebrow. "Would that have anything to do with your... Aunt Hermione?"

The blonde paused, unable to withhold a large grin. She adored her Aunt...well, aunt-in-law, technically; but once a Weasley, always a Weasley, regardless of blood. However, the intelligent blonde also knew her current audience, and realized not everyone shared her adoration. She remained calm, and looked the Slag of a Man known as Minister Zabini straight in the eye, and clarified, remaining professional. "Sir, I believe you mean, Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Chief Hermione Granger?"

He sighed.

"Yes, that. Her." He rubbed his face, fatigued, dealing with all things Granger. Now, he had to deal with her familial mafia that infiltrated every part of the ministry, making demands.

Certainly, he had the title of Minister of Magic; but everyone in the Wizarding world knew who held the power. And it was that infuriating mudblood who had been a thorn in his side since their days at Hogwarts.

The one who had somehow transfigured her office, to be 1.5 centimeters larger than his own.

The one who had refused to take the promotion to Minister , for an embarrassing nine years in a row, claiming it was in the "public's best interest" for stability to be maintained, in law enforcement, instead.

The one who now had three Order of Merlin awards hanging on her wall.

And finally, the one who had created a public uproar that had been commented on every day for a bloody week in the Daily Prophet, that she would be leaving her post, at the ministry, next year.

He grimaced. Her announcement that she would be joinig the faculty at Hogwart's School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, as the new Defense against the Dark Arts professor, or DADA, as it was known, coupled with the dual post of Assistant Headmistress to the Headmistress Minerva McGonnigall, had caused a public outcry. A vote of no support for the Ministry, after her retirement, happened last month...although a symbolic gesture only, the message was clear.

The Minister had personally asked her, no fewer than six times, to reconsider; and each time she gave him that sickening look, before refusing.

Now, he leaned back in his chair, realizing the opportunity that had just fallen into his lap. A borderline evil smile slid across his face, as he looked at his young charge, a mere nineteen years of age, with new eyes.

"Wait a minute, Victoire…" the Minister called her back, thinking out loud.

He looked at the gorgeous blonde 1/8th Veela sitting before his desk who had stood up to leave. Agent Victoire Weasley had been assigned to him at her initial hire, as he was one of the few men who would not fall victim to her thrall, being a closeted gay male. She had grown on him, sort of. He had passed her over, initially, on her first application; despite her excellent N.E.W.T.s and her Head Girl position in her final year at Hogwarts, it was clear she was just…well. You know. Too pretty. Unnaturally pretty, actually.

She had inherited a Veela thrall and the looks from her Mother's side of the family. He had no idea if she could actually transform into the hideous beast, and that wasn't his problem. What was his problem, was the fact every man turned into a bloody bint the second she walked through the doorway!

Green-faced, and eighteen, he felt she would be a distraction, and he probally wasn't incorrect, at the time.

A year later, at 19 years of age, after the girl padded her application by interning for a year with Harry-Fucking-Potter, the damn Boy-who-still-kept-on-living, in his private corporate security agency. Additionally, she had a letter of recommendation from Britian's greatest cursebreaker, her father; and of course she wielded her final letter like the Sword of Godrick Griffyndor, himself. The nail in the coffin, a seventeen page parchment from the Bloody-Fucking-Golden-Girl's herself, complete with citations. He couldn't stop the juggernaut. Victoire was allowed into the Ministry intern program, passing with flying colors, and eventually hired.

Despite her extra year, he felt she was still pretty high strung and prone to outburst. Her wild swings of emotional control, in his opinion, made her thrall quite erratic. He had several meetings with her, and they came to an agreement that she would start, initially, in the Department of Magical Creatures – a low key department, where most everyone was older, and settled, and unaffected by her Thrall.

Granted, it wasn't her dream job of Auror, in Magical Law Enforcement, working under her Aunt...but the hope was in the next 3-5 years, Agent Weasley would find her mate, settle down, and the Veela thrall would calm the hell down. Once settled, then, he agreed to transfer her over to Law Enforcment. It wasn't a bad decision, he reasoned to both her and her pushy parents and grandparents, as life or death can be determined in a split second, in that Department. The minister's point was that he anticipated a lot of dead Agents on his hands if they spent their days glassy eyed and drooling, from her Thrall, instead of actually being competent.

He wasn't sexist. He held no bias against creatures. (He was still working on his issues with Mudblood, but one can't be perfect). When Agent Weasley's mother brought up his creature bias, he reminded the passionate Veela that his administration witches, than wizards, and was the only one to offer a full time position to a person of creature lineage. He managed to convince her that it was just an issue of safety. He finally convinced her that despite being 100% resistant to her thrall, even he could appreciate the fact that Agent Weasley was too unnaturally beautiful. He was sympathetic to her dreams of being an Auror, but there were practical issues to consider.

It just was not a good fit for that high-pressure, high-stakes, department.

Today, however, Minister Zabini had reached his limit with the public's adoration of the Golden Mudblood, the brains of the trio. Hermione Jean Granger, the alledged "Brightest Witch of the Era," or as people called her, behind his back, The "Real" Minister. Blaise Zabini suddenly felt much more liberal in terms of section placement. Fucking throw Weasley in there, and stir the pot, for all he cared! Let Granger handle the fucking fall out. Best part, she was family, and that was the one thing for which the robotic Hermione Granger actually had a blind spot regarding….

It was almost too perfect, he thought, smugly.

"You know what, Agent Weasley? You're right! This opportunity won't come again." He offered her a politician's smile, to counter her shocked expression. "If you want to work with your Aunt, fine. Far be it from me to interfere with destiny...I'm transferring you to her department. You begin, tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir!" The radiant young Agent gushed, nearly tripping over her own feet in her rush to get back to her office and clear it out.

"Oh, don't mention it, Dear. Really." The Minister felt giddy.

XOXOXOXOXOX

Agent Granger wondered if it was legal to send a Howler to your Minister of Magic.

The veteran department head was so strongly considering it, in fact, she even asked her assistant, Mavis, to call Barrister Malfoy and ask about the legality of the matter. Naturally, Mavis shot her down, refusing to entertain the request.

"Why haven't I fired you?" The Chief wondered, aloud.

Mavis rolled her eyes. "Because we've been together for 12 years, since you first started in this hellhole." Noted her assistant, dryly. "Do I want to know the problem, what it is, Hermione?"

"Really?" Hermione arched her eyebrowns. "You have to ask?" She directed her gaze towards the center of the section's nucleus of Pods. Mavis followed her bosses' disgusted gaze, onto the floor. Their eyes landed on twelve sets of other eyes, all glassy, and all watching the newest addition to their department, Agent Victoire Weasley. They were gazing at her, in near rapture, as she typed.

Fucking typed.

Type…reports.

To her defense, Agent Weasley appeared equally annoyed as they, regarding the constant staring and drooling. She even had the good manners to be offended at the fist fight that broke out amongst three of the Agents who were lobbying to be her partner. These early shennanagins forced the veteran Section Chief, wisely, to pair her up with Veteran Agent Viktor Krum. Agent Krum had been one of Hermione's first recruits, a trusted friend, and he was completely immune to Veela thrall. Unfortunately, he was getting older, and he was out on medical leave for another four weeks, having a nasty run in with some black market snatchers last month. He was still in the medical rehabilitation suite at St. Mungoes.

Which left her, his trainee partner, out in the Pods, for now, with the general public .

Typing.

"Did you expect this would happen?" Mavis asked, sounding more than a little disgusted, and doing little to hide it.

Hermione shook her head. "No…well, yes, and no. I mean…I obviously knew she was Veela. Vic is my niece, after all. But I didn't think of it…I mean, I hadn't really interacted with her, since she turned 18 years old. It didn't connect, until now.. 18 is when this," she gestered out towards the floor, in the general direction of her now defunct section filled with drooling Gits, "...hits, for a Veela. Veela puberty, in essence."

Mavis looked as though she smelled something burning. With a scowl, she remarked, "You gotta get her out of here, Hermione."

The Chief sighed. "Well, I've got to at least get her out of the general population, until Viktor comes back and resumes Auror status...and they can get the hell out of here, and go out to the field." Hermione analyzed. "It's not healthy, all this cooped up Thrall." She mused, thoughtfully.

The Chief started glancing around her office space.

Mavis noticed, and didn't like they way the Chief was noting space, and was looking around the office. "Hold up, Golden Girl! You're not thinking of moving her …in here, are you?" The middle aged woman asked, incredulously. The look of distain on Mavis' face was clear, when Hermione didn't respond. "Expect me to be scarce, then. I don't want to have her cosmetics slosh me in the eye."

Hermione smiled wanly. "Mavis, that's harsh, even for you."

"I don't like her, Hermione."

"Duley noted, Ms. M." The Chief nodded, sighing.

"I'll be less scarce when Viktor gets back." Mavis announced, returning her focus back on the young witch, and glaring.

"Also noted. C'mon, then, let's get some work done before you go M.I.A."

XOXOXOX

Ministry of Magic, Great Britain.  
Circa March, 2019

It was Day Seven, of "Operation Veela Siege", as the Minister liked to call it, secretly, to himself. With a heart full of mirth and evil happiness, he decided to make an unexpected visit to the department to check up on his troops, also known as, he hoped, laying witness to and reveling in Hermione's first disaster in his tenure.

When he entered the Section, his jaw dropped.

Other than the sound of several large, and odd looking, fans around the room…things seemed to be running, business as usual. He looked around….he didn't see his little transplanted Agent Of Thrall Destruction, anywhere, either. Odd. Frowning, he promptly knocked on Hermione's office door, having to do the dirty work himself as his assistant was out wasting her time having a baby. Ugh. Maternity Leave...

"Hey, Granger, got a sec?" He yelled inward

The door opened, with the most heavenly smell of peppermint wafting out of her office. Instead of Hermione, Agent Victoire Weasley poked her head out, instead. "Hello, Sir. Chief Granger is out, meeting with the Chancellor of the European Union, until 13:00, Sir. Shall I take a message, or can I help you with something?" She smiled, with her perfectly white teeth.

Well, clearly she's lying. Why would someone so important need to meet with a section chief? The Minister Reasoned to himself. She's probably out shopping. Out loud, he said, "No, thank you, Agent Weasley. Just stopping in, to say hi."

"Any message?"

"No. That will be all." As he turned to make a hasty retreat, he looked confused. He watched the typical bustling frenzy of Hermione's department, as it continued on, all around him. He heard that and those damn loud monstrosities someone had installed in the office. Horribly noisy things! What he missed hearing, however, was the lyrical giggle contained within the Chief's office, as Victoire shut the door, behind him.

XOXOXOXOX

"Oh, Merlin's ass," Hermione said, howling with laughter, upon hearing Victiore's retelling of the Minister's inspection, earlier.

Victoire continued to reenact his walk out the door, complete with a double take, and then fell onto Hermione's couch, tears streaming down both of their Cheeks.

"Chief, can I just say it? He's an…ass."

"Only if you say it louder, and only if you stop calling me Chief, you Git." Hermione said, chuckling, while wiping the mascara of her face.

Victoire blushed. "Technically, you are, uh... my Chief, though."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "And I am also, technically, your Aunt, Vic! Chief...pah! I have changed your diaper, for God's sakes!"

Victoire looked away, feeling something uncomfortable, and frowning. She thought abstractly Hermione's throwaway comment only illustrated the difference between them. 21 years is a lot of years, and especially with what Hermione had managed to pack into hers.

Sensing her niece's inner turmoil, Hermione gentle touched the younger woman wrist, and stroked it, twice. "Okay, okay...look, Vic, I know you're an adult, now. I'm not trying to make you feel small, dear, or demean you in any way. Really! I just meant, when we're in here," she gestured around their shared office, "I think its okay to call me…Hermione, you know. It's not like anyone will hear you over those damn things, anyway, including me!" She reasoned, pointing at the large filters littered around her office, roaring loudly.

Victoire furrowed her brow. "What are these things, exactly?"

"My own invention! I based them off the muggle technology of the reverse laminar flow hood. It's filtering out your small Thrall particulate drops, to the outdoors. I made a blueprint, Lee Jordan's crew welded it together, and transfigured the magical conversion kit we installed. Veela filters, and HEPA filters, combined! Hence the reason you are able to work in peace, and apply your brain, finally! Most important, without harassment. Also important...these filters are why I have a functional department, again." Hermione grinned. "Well, the filters, plus I sequestered you away, in my office, like a convict."

"Or a concubine." Vic added. When Hermione glanced over, surprised, the blonde noted quickly. "You're so fucking smart, Chi—er, Hermione." She said, with a shy smile.

"Meh." Hermione shrugged. "I read. Not very exciting, really."

Victoire unleashed a dazzling grin, towards Hermione. Looking meaningfully at the older woman, she said, "Au contraire. There are some who find reading, and knowledge, very….sexy. Don't knock it." Agent Weasley attempted to clear the strange butterflies in her stomach, and she turned back around, quickly. Before her boss could register her bizarre comment, she had her nose down her head down, resuming her work abstracting research articles for the Chief, and decidedly ignoring Hermione's shocked expression.

XOXOXOXOXOX

Hermione was more than stressed.

She had a deadline, and she had promised her good friend, the Chancellor , that she would have a report to him by Monday. But even the smartest witch of her era has limits, and she realized she would never get all the research read, abstracted, and synthesized into a position paper by then,even with Vic's incredible efforts. She looked at the clock. It was 15:00 on a Friday, and it was no where near complete. Hermione twitched.

Startling, she felt gentle, cool finger tips graze her jaw. "Hermione…please. Stop grinding your teeth, Belle! What is distressing you, if I may ask?"

Hermione confessed pressure of this contract, and more the details of the project. Vic's eyes went wide, with shared realization.

"How in the world…how are you writing the muggle policy statement for the European War on Terrorism?" Victoire said, impressed.

"Lots of briefings, security clearances, and body cavity searches," Hermione deadpanned. When Vic looked at her blankly,Hermione explained, for earnest, this time. "I didn't write the actual policy, Vic," Hermione said, dismissively. "I've just been tasked to come up with the brief that provides the evidentiary supporting document behind it, is all."

"Oh, that's all, then." The juror Agent said, flabbergasted. "Okay, let's start out with – how the bloody hell did you become the liaison to the most powerful muggle office in the free world, without anyone knowing about it?"

Hermione shrugged. "The Chancellor and I went to Elementary School together. He cheated off my math tests."

Victoire shook her head. "Okay but…why you? A witch, who is someone clearly outside current events and muggle politics?"

Hermione smiled, as though amused. "You think I'm outside muggle politics, dear? Mmm. I thought you knew me better." She grinned. "Okay, let me humor you. So, I would suggest the following rationale: One. I'm the best researcher, alive. Two, I write policy statements in my sleep. Three, my unique skill sets, including law enforcement, and participation in destroying the most evil man alive, while writing good scientific analysis…in the King's English, is important. Four, the Chancellor is no fool, and wants to keep an eye on threats…of all kinds, thus, enlisting my help. There are very few wizards he trusts…rightfully so. And finally, he never got over his 5th grade crush on me, I suspect." Each point was said, in the matter of fact tone with which she was known.

"I understand the why, I guess. But, this….this is insane. It's…."

"The How. The "How" is daunting, without question. It's finally the proverbial 'I bit off more than I can chew' thing." Hermione finished. "I might actually have to surrender."

Vic looked at her Aunt. She looked exhausted. She cast her big, tired brown eyes up, landing on the still beautiful girl, regardless of fatigue. "Vic, honestly. Your analysis is fantastic. Cogent. I don't know what I would have done these last few days. I'm going to tell him to ask for a continuance—"

"-No!." Victoire interrupted, sounding unusually firm. "Tell him no such thing, Hermione. Just….well. I guess you're bringing in breakfast tomorrow morning, yes?"

"What?" Hermione asked, confused.

The blonde arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, looking more like a runway model, as opposed to the sleep-deprived Law Enforcement agent that she was becoming. "Mais alors, Hermione! Breakfast. I know this won't be the first weekend you pulled an all-nighter on, studying?"

The brunette shook her head.

"Well, I at least…expect breakfast, tomorrow morning." She said with a grin.

Hermione gave a feeble grin, shaking her head. "No, Vic…you're not budgeted in this project. I can't pay you overtime."

The Veela shook her head.

Hermione looked secretly relieved. "Fine. I won't lie, I need help. I'm so far out in the ocean, I can't even imagine the shore!" She grimaced. "Vic, I'm not going to refuse, if you're offering…"

"I'm offering, Hermione." She stated, firmly. "Besides, you already asked me to sign non-disclosures for this project. Who else is ready besides me? Who can step in, besides me? Seems intuitive, boss."

"Speaking of which," Hermione pulled out a folder, handing the COI form back to the young Agent. "I need you to resign these, again."

"Why?"

"Because, as our client embarrassingly noted, you signed the wrong name."

"What?"

She pulled open the folder, her eyes finding the form, trailing to the bottom. There was her name. In ink. By her hand. Except, she signed it Agent Victoire Apollene Granger…Bloody hell.

"In my defense, Chief, I believe you were hovering over me at the time, holloring, hurry up! Hurry up! Put your damn Hermione Jean Granger on that bitch and lets get it in!"

Hermione sniffed. "I don't believe I hollered. Just sign this new Conflict of Interest form, please. And this time, with your actual name, please."

The Veela grinned, and Hermione finally smiled, in utter relief.

She had to admit, in this particular case, the former Ravenclaw with the sharp critical reader's eye, was an absolute gem. And this project, as much as she played it off, was huge, with enormous ramifications.

Frankly, Victiore had been 10 times the help to her as Mavis—this was higher order thinking, and Mavis was frank that her thinking stopped promptly at 16:30, or she'd miss the train.

Thank God this Angel had a brain and was willing to be around….because as predicted, with the Veela influx, Mavis had become scarce, these days.

"I'm sorry about the overtime, Vic." Hermione said again, sheepishly.

A very French-like flourish of the hand, and a proclaimed, "Excuse me, Chief….I'm sorry, did I miss something? Did I ask for overtime?" Victoire made a very dramatic head-shake to the contrary, no.

"Look, Hermione, " She continued, delicately. "it's…the overtime…it's not necessary."

Walking over to the noisy white turbine filters, in the office quadrants, she made a theatric wave. "These things? Well, I can't pay you for these things," she said, banging the side of the filters, which roaring and whirring with activity. "I guarantee, these are far more expensive than a rookie's weekend overtime pay."

They exchanged a mutual look of understanding.

Victoire couldn't hold the brunettes gaze for long, however. While staring at her shoes, the 1/8th Veela mumbled the question that had been on her mind since the industrial filters' appearances earlier in the week.

"Are these things the reason we have such intelligent conversations, Hermione?"

Hermione was confused. "What do you mean, Vic?"

From across the room, the older woman could see the tension building, in Agent Weasley's jaw. She finally looked up, allowing Hermione to see the pain evident in her blue eyes.

"They filter the Thrall, for you? My Thrall. So you don't look at me, glassy-eyed, and stupid…"

Hermione chuckled. "I feel like I'm looking at you pretty stupidly, right now, Vic. I'm pretty damn tired."

Vic wasn't joking. "You know what I mean."

Hermione straightened up. Unsure of where this conversation was headed, she offered a neutral, "I didn't think a Veela's thrall usually affected women, in that way, Victoire."

"Yes, that's true." The 1/8th Veela sighed. "No, around me, women … well, usually women despise me. That, or they're filled with untenable jealously and resentment. But, you know, with a few women, I've found, that…uh..." The blonde stumbled on her words.

Hermione cocked her head. "Found what, kiddo?"

The junior Agent went crimson. "Well, that…uh. You know. The ladies who prefer other ladies, well, the Thrall tends to be, um…an equal opportunity thrall."

"You mean…gay ladies."

"Yes. That."

Hermione cocked her head back, expression neutral. "And, you think that… I'm one of those…gay ladies?"

"Well…aren't you?" The tension was palpable. Victoire's eyes went wide, wondering if her source information was incorrect.

Remaining still, the Chief asked a trademark "open ended question," "Why would you think that, Victoire?"

The embarrassed blonde decided to go with the honest approach.

Hesitantly, she answered, "Well, Hermione, it was said in a very positive light. You see, she was just trying to reassure me, and my Maman told me—"

Hermione stood up, exploding.

She cut Victoire off. The furious witch slammed her hand down, on her desktop, enraged. "Are you kidding me? You've got to be kidding me! Fleur? Really? Fleur told you—told her own daughter—Rose's oldest cousin, mind you….that she and I fucked?"

Victoire's looked as though all three Unforgivable Curses had just been cast at her, all at once. Her face had gone sheet white.

Trembling, she replied, "ah, no. She…uh, failed to mention that part." Victoire didn't blink.

Hermione looked back at her, mouth agape. Finally, she mustered up a feeble, "Oh. I see."

The two women looked at each other, without a word being said, for nearly an entire full minute—the longest of Victoire Weasley's life. Finally, Hermione let out a low sigh. Running her hand through her crazy hair, she spoke, finally.

"I think, in this extremely awkward situation, I'm supposed to be the adult, here. But…I'm sort of at a loss, as to what the appropriate thing to say, might be." She looked sheepishly at the younger woman, still borderline catatonic.

"You….slept with…."

Hermione closed her eyes, willing this all to go away.

"You slept with my mother, Hermione? MY mother!" Victoire said, in utter disbelief. "Maman?" She clarified, as though there might have been some mistaken identity at play.

Hermione opened her eyes, and sighed, again. Still here. I'm still damn here. She thought. Face the music, Granger. "Bollocks." Said Hermione, tersely. "Well, there's no delicate way around this, I suppose." Looking Victoire squarely in the eye, she answered, honestly. "Yes, Vic. I did. A long time ago, granted, but…yes. I did." Hermione let out a huge breath she had been holding. She slumped down into her office chair, took a quick glance at her wall clock, and decided it was a fine time to dip into her firewhiskey stash.

Pulling out the ancient vintage, she raised the decanter towards the flabbergasted blonde. "Would you like a drink?"

Victoire looked at her boss, and finally blinking, again. She looked at the bottle for a long while before it registered.

"Ah…yes, please. I'd like three, actually."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Three drinks became five drinks, and five drinks became hilarious. They were laughing their ass off, still holed up in Hermione's office space, despite the late hour and two house elves checking on the ruckus.

The magical properties of firewhiskey, and its ability to soothe the soul, worked yet again.

They had gotten a little work done, and multitasked with some needed girl talk. They talked on a myriad of topics: work, the position paper, drifting to Hogwarts, their respective houses of Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw, why Hermione was retiring, what went wrong with Teddy and Victoire, if the Weird Sisters were going to finally call it quits, until they finally circled back around to the elephant in the room, when there was nothing else to ruminate upon.

Fortunately, they had gotten extremely drunk in the interim.

"If I may ask," Hermione hiccupped, "what's so startling about Fleur and I, anyway?" She asked her drunk partner-in-crime. "I mean, of course, other than the fact she's…you know…your Mum, and all…." They both cracked up, going into another laughing fit.

Victoire, leaning on Hermione's left knee, and slurring her words, just a tiny bit, explained. "Well, Gods, Hermione….it's just, you know. You're you."

"Yes?"

"And Maman, well…..she's Maman, Hermione!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "So very illuminating, Mademoiselle Delacour Weasley! This is an argument akin to "Duh," which my 11 year old son utilizes, often. You just "proclaim," Vic...as if its intuitively implied, and I'm supposed to get it. You are your mother's daughter."

"No, I'm not, actually."

"Well then, explain what the bloody hell that meant!"

"What?"

Hermione groaned. "Arse over tits, girl! What you just bloody said!"

The sentence seemed hysterically funny to the blonde witch, and Hermione had to wait for her three minute laughing jag to pass, before she answered. . "Well it's just, Merlin's beard, Hermione…you're…." She waved her hands up and down, indicating Hermione's body.

"Hmmm-mmm. We've covered that."

Victoire shrugged. "And Maman? Gods!" Victoire leaned back, deep in the recesses of the enormous couch. "Maman is…such a dork, Hermione! Downright bonkers, she is! I can't imagine her ….I don't know….keeping your interest."

"What?" Hermione asked, incredulously, wondering if she was drunker than she realized.

Victoire nodded, actually drunker than she realized. "What? C'mon, Hermione….my dorky mother, while sweet, is…ah, she's not in your league. Maman's not even close!" Hermione felt a sudden sinking feeling, feeling like an ugly 1st year again.

Until she heard Victoire gush, "Because, well….You could have…anyone! Anyone you desired, Hermione." She registered that she had been complimented, at the dazzling Fleur Delacour's expense. Compared, with Fleur found wanting! What? "I mean, why would you pick my mom?"

Hermione's mouth was agape. "Who the hell are you, and what have you done with Fleur's eldest daughter?"

The eldest daughter of Bill and Fleur Weasley looked suddenly serious, despite the possibility she might pass out, momentarily. "Hermione, you know its true! Everyone loves you! You stay fit! I mean," Victoire gave her the up and down, "you have a great figure at what...thirty nine?"

"Forty."

"Really? Wow. Uh. That sounds a lot older than Nineteen."

"That's because...it is."

"I don't feel like it is," Victoire said, honestly. Well, you are old...but, who cares! I mean, you look in your late twenties...and even you, Hermione can't be so oblivious you don't notice the fans and autograph hunters, right? Surely you're not knockers and don't realize you have all these witches throwing themselves at you! You've got, like , groupies!"

"Groupies?" Now Hermione was blushing. "No, Ah, no. That's just…that's still from hangers-on, from my Golden Trio days….."

"Bollocks!" the beautiful blonde smiled knowingly, putting a firm hand on her boss' arm. "Hermione, stop deflecting. It's true. And its not because of fame from something you did as a kid, either! Well, although that certainly adds to the mystique and allure of Hermione Granger, one would think." She looked at the older woman regarding her with a strange expression. "No, Hermione. You have groupies, because…you know. You've evolved. You're...hot."

The look that crossed Hermione's bewildered face made Vic burst out into yet another round of giggles, uncontrollably. .

Hermione lamented that they had polished off her last bottle, really mortified. When Vic refused to stop laughing, having fallen on the actual floor, Hermione huffed. "I am not hot, as you term it, Victoire!" Hermione said, firmly. "I am a Secton Chief! I am in charge of Law Enforcement, the biggest department IN the Ministry! I am a mother of not one, but two children, and a divorce survivor-—"

"-Yeah," Victoire interrupted, with a smirk. "You are, indeed, all those things…and guess what? You're still hot." She had a devilish twinkle, enjoying watching the older woman squirm.

"Victoire….I'm….I'm old." Hermione whispered.

"Okay. We've established that fact, I believe. But you're still hot. Everyone thinks so."

Hermione was unable to speak, merely staring at Victiore, as though she were an Ancient Rune. The younger blonde giggled. "Look, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's supposed to be a complement, Hermione. I mean, normal people would generally say…'thank you Vic,' or something of that ilk...Just sayin'…."

"Thank you, I think…? I mean, how does this even come up as a topic?"

Victoire shrugged, again. "The way any thing comes up, I suppose."

"Like your Mom disclosing to you that I'm a lesbian, for some bizarre reason?" Hermione was still a little miffed, on that regard.

Victoire was trying to line up the two dancing Hermiones that wouldn't seem to merge in her visual fields. "No, that came up in a specific context." Vic explained, really slurring, now. "See, I was a sixth year at Hogwarts—"

"I'm familiar with the establishment." Hermione interjected.

Vic held up a perfectly manicured nail, touching Hermione's nose, with mock severity. "Stop interrupting, Granger!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Anyhoo, I was a little sixth year….and I had come to the realization that I might be, um….interested in diversifying my portfolio, in the romance department…"

"What the hell does that even mean, child?"

"What did I say about interruptiontinging?" Vic slurred, with Hermione joining in, laughing. "It means, I realized I fancied chicks, too! Not just boys." Vic finished.

"Oh. Got it. Wait, uh, now. I guess I'm still not following, though."

The Veela let a dreamy grin slide across her face. "You're adorable when you're frustrated, you know that, Hermione? All tough and determined..."

Hermione scowled. "Tell that to your Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron. Now... where's did I put that extra bottle?" She crossed over to her cabinet, slurring, "Accio...Accio..."

Wait!" Interjected the junior Agent, grabbing Hermione's arm. "Before we open another bottle, um. Well, you never actually answered my question, in the first place!"

"Oh hell. Which question?"

Victoire giggled. "About these damn industrial filter gadgets! Are these the reason, well….you're not affected by my thrall?"

"That little thing?" Hermione scoffed, for her benefit. "Your bitty thrall? Please!" For dramatic effect, she shut the blowers off, since it was only them in the building. She walked over to the blonde, who appeared openly nervous. Hermione leaned over. "Look in my eyes, Vic." Hermione demanded.

So Victoire did. She stared openly, gazing into the pool of chocolate above her, drowning. Those big, brown eyes. So beautiful…. the Veela purred. She only realized she was still staring when she felt a swat on her arm.

"Hello? Earth to Agent Weasley!"

"Oh….!" Vic gasped. "Sorry, I … was thinking of something else. Lost in thought, I guess."

"Youth these days!" Teased Hermione. "Now, Vic, I'm asking...look at me,"Hermione asked. "Look at my eyes. Do they look clear, or cloudy?"

"Clear as a bell."

"Right, then. And, do I seem dismissive, or derisive towards you?" They both looked at each other, and laughed. "Oh,okay, fine. At least I'm dismissive and derisive to everyone, equally. Okay fine, well then...disgusted, like...you know. Come closer." She pulled the witch, inappropriately closer, by her wrist. Looking up in to Vitories, eyes, Hermione was surprised to see red flecks in gold swimming around her irises. "Well, Vic? Look at me... Do I look or act disgusted by you, then?"

Victorie hadn't looked away from those chocolate pools, practically Imperio'ed by the depths of them. "No," she said in a small voice. "I don't think you're disgusted…."

"Oh, stop!" Hermione said. A woman of action, she pulled her closer still, punctuating her sentence with a warm embrace. Victoire felt goosebumps erupt, all over her body with the older woman's touch. The unexpected hug, caught her unawares. Victoire, felt suddenly dizzy, rollingher eyes involuntarily to the back of her head, murmuring to herself. She trembled and felt like her senses were wired.

Wired, by...what? She thought. Vaugely she thought, The smell of Hermione….the intoxicating smell of vanilla, and parchment….so uniquely her. The Veela could smell her, fully, now that those damn filters were off. Victoire took a deep breath, allowing the overdose. She felt intoxicated, literally and figuratively, and hadn't released her yet, from the embrace. She nuzzled deeper into Hermione's neck and hair, clutching her tighter.

She felt a small shiver go through Hermione, as well.

She brought her lips close to the brunette's ear. She grazed her lips across her earlobe, then the shell of her ear, in order to murmur, "I hope, anyway, that you don't… find me too disgusting, Hermione."

Victoire didn't recognize her own voice. Her voice, unexpectedly, was low and throaty, and reeked of … sin. Victoire, realizing at the last minute she was about to moan, hurriedly bit her lip to quench it from escaping.

That did it.

Her fear snapped her out of her…stupor, and she forced herself to remember this woman changed her diapers as a baby; this woman was practically another mother to her.

She pulled away stiffly, and flung herself on the couch, playing it off. "I'm getting sleepy, Hermione!"

Hermione huffed. "Me too! Or "duh," as Hugo argues. Out with it woman, before you pass out. Vic, Stop stalling!really Fleur's big reveal.. What's the deal?"

Vic was suddenly feeling really sleepy, the effects of their last two shots hitting her. With a yawn, she answered, "I was complaining to Maman that there were no pretty girls that liked girls, or so I thought. I mean, I'm a little superficial, I admit it. I'm a Veela, for Crap's sakes! I like….pretty girls."

Hermione shrugged. "There's no fault in liking pretty girls, Vic."

"Right!" She agreed with her boss. "The point my Maman was making, is that everyone was young and scared, and that people would figure it out eventually. She reassured me there were loads of pretty girls that liked girls. Then she offered you as an example…" The blonde yawned again, her head resting on the arm rest, close to passing out. She closed her eyes, preparing to fall asleep.

"Why me?" Hermione asked.

Victoire's eyes fluttered open for a few moments. "Because you were my first crush, Hermione. Duh!" She snorted, as if it had been the most obvious and logical explanation in the world… smiling up at the brightest witch of her era, right before she passed out.

XOXOXOXOXOX

Hermione, even drunk, was pretty skilled.

She realized they were both too inebriated to apparate to their respective homes, without splinting every limb off their body. Her second option, Having a wizard taxi them home she was far too embarrassed to have anyone come get them and side-allong apparate the two, given she was so drunk along with someone 21 years her Junior, AND in her chain of command, no less!

No, they would have to gut this one out.

Resolved, Hermione addressed the business at hand. She transfigured the couch larger, and divested Vic's shoes. She set a hangover draught, and three pepper up potions, and a generous glass of water with honey and lemon in it, at each endtable. Finally, she conjured a blanket to cover them both, and fell immediately into a deep peaceful slumber, despite her coming work overload and the interesting topics of discussion this evening.

XOXOXOXXOXOX

"My God, I think that draught is finally working!"

"The miracle of magic." Hermione remarked, dryly.

Victoire set her vial down, on the end table, squinting her eyes out the window. Finally she turned to Hermione. "So Hermione…about last night."

Hermione held her breath. She felt certain this was the point at which Vic would point out that despite the fact they went to bed on opposite ends of the couch, they woke up this morning….

…with Victoire as the big spoon.

Indeed. The big spoon, wedged in tight into the little spoon.

Yes, indeed. Victoire Weasley was, apparently, the big spoon to her little spoon, in their alternate universe, drunken "relationship." The big spoon, groused Hermione, the next morning, with even bigger, grabbier hands, that were underneath my shirt, and refused to let me get up! Or out of her clutches...at all. Hermione remembered tangling around all night with the long-limbed Veela, it was a wonder she got any sleep and finally managed to extricate herself from the frighteningly strong grip, and head to her attached, private loo to brush her teeth.

Looking in the mirror, she shook her head at her reflection. Granger, this is headed into dangerous territory. You're smarter than this. Hermione couldn't understand why she didn't care more about it, and rejoined her "big spoon."

"About last night," Victoire continued, in a melodic sing song, beaming. She looked sickeningly refreshed. "I believe I was promised….croissants?" The blonde looked at Hermione, pointedly.

Hermione, dumbstruck, said nothing. Silently, she lumbered over to the coat rack, grabbed her traveling robes, and apparated off premises with a loud Pop! as the hungover Chief set off. Sighing, the brightest witch of her era went off in search of some croissants accompanied by the world's strongest cup of coffee, as promised previously, to her apparent "big spoon."

XOXOXOXOXOX

The stacks of journal articles that faced them this morning, were frightening….even by Hermione's standards.

"Well, let's dive in. We've had coffee. I guess there's no more excuses." Hermione said, glumly. The Gryffindor was all business, and began methodically going through her laborious task.

The Ravenclaw, for her part, was having a hard time concentrating. She snuck a look at Hermione, who sudden appeared off, but definitely in possession of clear eyes. The younger woman startled, realizing that she could feel … Hermione was upset. Their eyes met. Their eyes met, and Victoire knew. She felt a tug at her gut. Vic cleared her throat, her voice returning to its normal camber. "Hermione….what is it?" The younger woman asked, concerned.

Hermione leaned backwards, supporting her weight on her desk, as she gazed out the window, a melancholy drifting across her face.

The Ravenclaw resisted the urge to rush over, and scoop her in her arms, to soothe her. I mean, fuck! Vic though, horrified. This is my boss, we're talking about here. Act appropriate! She scolded herself. Staring at the nondescript scene outdoors, Hermione mused, "You know what they say about what it means when a person….who should be affected by thrall, is not affected?"

Victoire opted to say nothing, letting Hermione answer her own rhetorical question.

Looking back at the younger woman, Hermione did in fact answer it, rather morose. "It means their heart is already taken. The unaffected person's heart….well, it knows what it wants, already. The captured heart cannot be swayed or detracted, I'm afraid." With tremendous sadness, she watched a solitary tear roll down Hermione's Granger's cheek, and watched her try to blink it away.

As she watched the brunette swipe it away after a few shaky attempts with the palm of her hand, she couldn't help but to feel witness to the most tragic thing she had ever seen. Fighting her own tears, Victoire asked, "Do you know who has captured your heart, ChouChou?"

Hermione looked up, startled by the unexpected nickname, then laughed, bitterly. "I do, I believe. I'm afraid the feeling is not mutual, so it doesn't matter…."

The younger woman blurted out, rather foolishly, "…but it does matter, Hermione! Love is the only thing that matters!"

Hermione looked at her, her features schooled into a mask of neutrality. "No, Victoire, it isn't. Not when only one person thinks so, anyway." Hermione's jaw was set. "But, that means you don't have to let any 'gay panic' fret you, with me. I'm immune to you, Victoire. It's perfect, I suppose."

It didn't feel perfect, though.

They silently moved to organize the day's work, not looking at one another. Victoire tried to choke down the burning pain in her stomach and heart, causing her entire chest to ache. She decided to blame it on too many croissants.

XOXOXOXOXOXOX

They were going on hour eight, and Victoire noticed her vision was starting to blur, from eyestrain from reading, so damn much. Everything was starting to look hazy. She had to take a break. After all, she reasoned, she had been sitting hunched over, the room silent, for the last three hours, straight.

While she was convinced Hermione was a robot, she fully acknowledged she was not. At all. Vic was tense, and she was developing a whopper of a headache. It seemed her migranes were returning…joy! Hermione tried to help, and considerately kept off the loud filters, from her earlier demonstration, but it didn't help.

Nothing would help.

There was just so much material….and so much left to do! She glanced over at Hermione, still bent over her desk. Then, Victoire smiled. The sight of Hermione, the tough, formidable witch of fame and reputation, looked simply… adorable, in the moment. She looked….so little. Little, and adorable, with her little reading glasses, and the ink stains on her fingers.

Adorable.

And the way she frowned when she wrote her outline….

Adorable.

And the way she licked her soft-looking lips, moistening their surface…

Adorable….

Wait. What?

Victoire shook her head, rubbing her blurry eyes. Oh fuck. I think I was just checking out…my Aunt. My Aunt! The blonde realized, with horror. What to the actual fuck, Victoire Weasley? Unable to stop herself, her attention was caught again, as Hermione made a little frustrated squeak, unaware of Victoire's scrutney. The former Gryffindor was crossing out entire sections on her outline, in frustration.

Fascinated, Victoire continued to watch. She watched Hermione chew on the corner of her lip, deep in thought, and that action transfixed Victoire.

She tried to stop staring…she did. Really.

But the more she tried, she realized with mounting frustration, the worse it became and she would just stare more. Victoire was staring, hypnotized by watching Hermione's mouth, in fascination. She watched that delectable lip…get bitten.

Get licked.

Gnawed …by Hermione's mouth. Oh my...Hermione's little sounds she was mewing out? Oh, her sounds…her frustrated little growls and squeaks, all of a sudden cause a festering desire to hear more of those little noises from that adorable woman...that hot woman...that woman, that she wanted more of, with louder noises…..

"Oh…fuck." Victorie, said, internally, forcing herself to exhale.

Outwardly, she put on a good face, and tried to look normal, while chirping out, "Um, Hermione? I'm going to step outside for a minute. Take a smoke…I'll be right back."

The brunette peered over the top of her glasses, staring at the younger woman. So bloody adorable! Victoire felt her body overheat from the intense focus of that brown-eyed gaze, peering at her. "I didn't know you smoked, Victoire." Hermione observed.

"Uh, well….I don't. I'm starting. Today." The erratic blonde the sprinted, out of the room, and out of the Ministry, leaving Hermione to wonder if she pushed her into a small mental breakdown. .

XOXOXOXOXO

She had walked the perimeter of the Ministry three times, when she realized she was growing angry, again. Furious, really. Her irrational anger was directed at thought of Hermione's unrequited love. Who the fuck would be stupid enough-have the audacity-to throw away this gem? Vic felt an unexplained fury rise in her chest, boiling to crisis levels. She wouldn't stand for this. Some asshole had hurt her Hermione…

Victoire startled herself. Woah! Veela, back off! She scolded herself. She's not "your" anything. Her mind continued to speculate, regardless. Was it Uncle, Ron? Possibly. After all he did abandon her, Rose, and Hugo. That fucker needs to die, as well. Leaving her, and their kids? Fucking nutter!

She thought, harder, though….as it was doubtful Won-Won was anyone's true love, much less a Goddess like the Golden Girl's, she ruled him out. Her mind raced.

So….Viktor Krum, then? Hmmm. The Veela reasoned, logically. No. Hermione hated Quiddich on a good day. There was no way in all of Merlin's Hells that Hermione could feign that much interest in the flying sport. AND, let's face it… Quiddich was his only redeeming quality.

The Veela racked her brain, thinking about family gossip, ignoring the warnings that she was veering into stalker territory. Think Vic! Okay...Hermione had only done short term flings afterwards, as long as I've know her. Really, her kids were her sole reasons for living, just like us Veela.

The blonde had a sinking, horrible realization, in that moment. A devastating "Eureka" moment.

The Veela…Merlin! Was she really that blind? Hermione's love? Her one true love...surely life isn't that cruel.

Victoire felt the pit of despair wash over her soul. With a start, she suddenly felt almost "other-worldly,"... split, as though she watched her body third person. Her fingers extended into sharp talons; she abstractly heard the sound of her own bones breaking and She watched the silver-white feathers shoot out, of her neck and back, and as they accommodated growth into her unfurling wingspan from new moulded cartilage , she uttered her last human words, to no one, in particular:

"Fleur. Fleur Delacour."

The, allowing one final, anguished cry, the Veela took off in flight, heading towards the darkening sky.

XOXOXOXOXOXOX

An Unmarked Forest, Scotland.  
Circa February-March, 2019

Pain.

Pain, everywhere. Oh, fuck me, what did I do? Where am I?

Victoire tried to open her eyes, but it was as though her lids were welded shut. Her throat was so parched, she was unsure she could even cry for help, if she needed to do so. She reached the pads of her fingers out, to feel around.

Fingers….I have fingers again. I transformed back….

She felt the textures of jagged leaves, soft bark, and it appeared she was laying on a spongy moss. There wasn't overwhelming light, she sensed, so it was either morning in somewhere optically dense, or night…She continued to feel around.

Oh! Well, I guess I'm naked, it appears. Didn't bring a change of clothes this time. It was to be expected. It was only her second ever transformation. As her cousins on her Maman's side like to remind her, she was only 1/8th after all. She tried to focus. She strained to open her eyes, but couldn't. As if on cue, her hyperacute hearing detected the tiny snaps of twigs, in the direction at 180 degrees. Wincing through the pain, she attempted to sit up, to focus, to open her eyes….see if it was friend or foe…

A gentle, familiar voice rang out. "Take it easy, Tiger." Hermione. Fuck. "You had quite a rough week."

Victoire tried to speak, but only scratchy nothingness came out.

"Wait, wait!" Hermione said, more urgently. "Wait, Vic." The brunette urged, gently.

Victoire, crumbled in an aching mess on the cold ground, strained to localize where Hermione's voice was coming from, but couldn't. Frustrated, she tried to open her yes again, but couldn't.

All her frustration disappeared, instantly, when she felt a grounding hand on her shoulder, with Hermione's soft hand. "I'm here, Vic." the brunette said, simply.

It was as though a soothing balm had been poured on her shoulder, where Hermione's hand lay. Her soothing voice continued speaking. "I have something for you to drink, ? So... I'm going to drop it in, to your throat, now, okay? Don't gulp." Tenderly, she felt droplets of something slide into her mouth, then ease down her throat.

Relief! Relief! Her throat no longer felt singed. "What is that?" She croaked, still unable to open her lids.

"To the best of my understanding, water, with a touch of dead sea salt, herbs de province, ginger, dragon tears, and tarragon."Hermione stated, factually. "Apparently it is quite the Veela salve, after a journey like you took."

"May I have another drink?"

Hermione chuckled. "I can assure you, it's not for me. Have at it!"

The Veela wanted to weep with relief. She felt Hermione's strong, soothing grip, on her jaw. "Hold still, I'm going to put some eye drops in, next."

"Wait!" Vic said, momentarily panicked. A flood of wooziness hit her, making her nearly faint.

Vanilla and Parchment…. She steadied her nerves. "Okay, I'm ready, Hermione."

"Ugh, I hate eye drops. Ready? Here we go!" She felt the drop drop drop, and then, miraculously, she was able to unglue her eyes. She blinked. Eyes open, she saw Hermione. And she looked radiant. She looked…delicious….golden….desirable. The younger woman suddenly felt despondent, realizing that what Hermione looked like, in fact, was...taken.

Victoire hadn't realized she'd been reaching for Hermione, in that moment of weakness. She pulled her hand back, with a snap. Deflecting, she asked, "…and what was in that concoction, pray tell? Eye of Newt?"

Hermione chuckled, as she draped a warm blanked around the young witch. The Veela closed her eyes, wrapping herself in the warmth. The blanket that was so familiar, that smelled like…

Hermione.

"That concoction was of my own doing." Hermione grinned.

"Yeah?"

"Yes." She confirmed. "It's called Visene Eye Drops."

In spite of her aches, the Veela laughed. "Visene? Like the kind you get at a muggle apothecary?"

"CVS! Indeed. Look, drinking herbs is one thing….but putting them in your eyeball? Now that's just gross, thank you. I decided to go with my own brand of magic on this," she said, tapping on the bottle with pride.

"Wise choice." Vic concurred, feeling a little better. She started gnawing on the French biscuits Hermione handed over. Until she realized, after seeming the familiar biscuits.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, little naked one?"

"Who made the concoction, I drank?"

Hermione looked at her, evenly. "Smart girl."

"Ravenclaw, you know." Vic said, a tinge of bite entering her voice.

Hermione nodded. She looked...unafraid. "So I hear." She looked at Victoire evenly. "You know who made that for you, Vic. Your mother."

"How nice! I helped bring together such a lovely relationship, once again." Vic said, bitterly. She felt her temper inexplicably rising. "Did you enjoy seeing her again?"

Hermione remained calm. "Actually, yes. She was very helpful."

Vic could feel red tint her vision. Her eyes were starting to change back. She looked at Hermione menacingly. "Did you fuck her, Hermione?"

"Excuse me?"

Victoire's entire demeanor became laced with venom and bile. "I'm sorry, did I stutter?" Victorie said, as her fingers began to elongate. "I said, Did. You. Fuck. My. Mother?" Her voice was rising, she felt rage rising, uncontrollability. She was going to transform, again...and she didn't think she had it in her...until she felt a sharp smack! land across her face, her cheek stinging in pain..

Hermione had slapped her! Wholloped her, actually. The Veela flew into a rage, getting ready to stand up, and who knows what. All until she felt herself pushed backwards, and restrained... with Hermione sitting on top of her, still with that level expression. "Sorry to have to use magic on you, Victorie. You were spiraling out of control."

"How? I didn't see you pull your wand…"

Hermione pointed to her temple. "Wandless, wordless magic." She winked. She then brought her face close, a mere inches from Vic's own. "Victoire Weasley, I need you to calm the fuck down. Please stop Veela-ing out on me, so we can chat."

Victoire snarled.

"I understand. You're lashing out, because you're angry, hurt, confused…..I get it. But if you don't shut the bloody hell up, I can't demonstrate to you that it is actually the Gryffindors, ultimately, that are the smartest of them all."

With a pout, Vic huffed, trapped on the ground with Hermione still sitting on her. She had reverted at least to human. "What?" She demanded.

"So bear with me, a little back story. So, yes, your mother and I….have a history."

Victorie growled, in response.

Hermione flicked her arm. "Stop!" She shook her head. "You're like a hormonal boy! I know…I have one."

"I am not a boy."

Hermione let out a small eye roll. "Obviously, Victoire, otherwise we would not be holding this conversation."

"Get on with it. I want to go home."

"Fine. So, our thing began, when I was a fourth year at Hogwarts…around 1993. Fleur and I, well….we were on again, off again. She drove me fucking crazy, on most days."

"I understand, trust me." Victoire muttered.

"Fleur got married, but I am ashamed to admit, even that didn't stop…things." Hermione did look ashamed. "I couldn't help myself, I didn't recognize myself around her."

"If this is supposed to make me feel better, well, it's not."

Hermione looked at the younger witch, frowning. "Victoire, this is hard enough as it is, could you keep the commentary to a minimum, until the end?" She asked, with pursed lips.

The blonde looked away, shrugging.

"Very mature."

"I'm not the one fucking someone married."

"And I'm not, either." Hermione openly winced at that. "But I was, so, that was….fair, I suppose. In my defense, and Fleur's , Bill was quite aware, and very supportive. We did nothing without his understanding. Fleur loves Bill."

"Great. So, both of my parents are morally destitute, then, is that what you're saying?"

Hermione looked pained, and looked like she was holding down her temper. "Victoire, you do not disrespect your parents, you hear me?" Hermione's temper was rising, finally. "You and I both know, that your parents, Bill and Fleur, are two of the finest human beings to walk this planet. Don't disparage them, it's beneath you."

Victoire glared at Hermione, arms folded across her chest, but she remained silent.

"Decent souls, but human, Vic. They make mistakes. We all do." Hermione said it so softly, Vic couldn't help but to look up, and stare into those brown magnets. "You'd be dead, right now, if Fleur and Bill hadn't gathered everything for that little elixir. At this stage, you only have seven days."

"I can't only transferm for seven days?"

"Hmm. Somethig like that. Fleur was panicked, absolutely distraught, Vic."

The blonde looked bitter again, at the mention of that name. "Yeah? Then why didn't Mommy come get me, then? Why'd she send her used lover?"

The comment openly stung Hermione, seeming as though it literally crushed her in the chest. Victoire forced herself to look away, she couldn't stand looking at the anguish she caused Hermione. Tears were starting to come, and she was damned if she let that tramp see her cry. The one who spread her legs whenever Fleur snapped her fingers...

"Actually, it was more like, when I snapped my fingers, Vic." Hermione said, quietly.

The blonde swiveled her head around. "I didn't say that out loud!" Her eyes were wide.

Hermione was looking down on the ground, hurt. Victoire fought every urge in her body that was trying to force herself to go over there and embrace and comfort the older witch. "It wouldn't hurt you to give in, to those tendencies, sometimes. It's what made Harry different from Voldemort. Harry could filter the bad and act on the good-and sort the difference. The important thing to remember is we both have each...but it is the core of the person that determines the course of action taken."

Hermione finally looked up, and locked her eyes, with Victoire's.

All of the air left Vic's body, in that moment. She couldn't do anything but touch Hermione. She had to.

She crossed the divide, practically throwing herself into Hermione's arms, gripping her, in a tight embrace. They said nothing at all but just...pressed against each other. Victorie mumbled, burrowed into Hermione's neck. "Soepfh usizz lsglly on ee"

"What?"

Victoire raised her head, slightly. She was drunk on Vanilla and parchment. "Stop using legillimancy on me. It's rude."

"I haven't used that spell once, Victoire."

"Bullshit!"

"No...its not bullshit. And as for why I came instead of your mother? Because that's how its was supposed to be. I was the only one who could find you." Hermione looked around. "This is an unmarked island, Vic... You would have never been found, otherwise."

"You're lucky, Granger."

The Golden Girl looked furious, but reeled in her emotions. "Oh, I'm lucky, huh? I wasn't the one nearly dead, you idiot!" She took a deep great. Instead, she opted to continue. "Do you know when I realized I was wrong, my dear?" She looked down at the exhausted young woman. "Sixteen years, to the day, after I first started my tryst with Fleur, it stopped. Cold turkey."

"Never again?"

"Not once. Everything ended, in 1999, between us. For good."

In spite of the extreme desire to hold on to her righteous anger, Vic couldn't help but to be curious. "What happened in 1999?"

Hermione arched into Victoria's center, slightly, causing the Veela to gasp. Hermione smirked- politely. "Really, Vic? No guesses?"

"I'm still getting past the fact you fucked my mother for sixteen years…sorry."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If this is what teaching is going to be like…" she threw her hands up. "Okay, let me spoon feed you then! Victoire," she said, leaning over, looking at the pouting woman, underneath her. "In 1999, Fleur got pregnant…with you."

"Oh! Yes, I guess that's right…"

"I told myself, back then, Fleur was going to be a Mommy, and that I was becoming morally bankrupt. I told myself I had to cut it off, because I couldn't do that to her child. I wouldn't be that person…and so, we quit, well…I quit."

Hermione stretched out, sliding her legs down, deliberately sliding down Victoire as though she were an amusement park ride . Victoire's head felt like it was splitting apart, with the assault on her senses, of Hermione's skin, touching hers, as she repositioned herself over the intoxicated Veela. "Victoire?" There was no denying the breathy want, infused in Hermione's voice. Hermione wanted her!

"Yes, Hermione?" The gravely voice…it was back. Hermione leaned over to the side of the blonde's neck, and nuzzled her. Victorie felt her nipples hardening, painfully... longing to be touched, by Hermione's hands, and her tongue.

"Victoire…" Hermione said, her voice, husky, as well.

"Yessss…Oh!" Victorie startled, when she felt Hermione's wet tongue swipe across her earlobe. She arched, when she felt that amazing wet muscle, swipe again.

"Fuck! What are you doing, Hermione?" Gasped Victoire.

"Mmmm?" She responded, dragging her lips down Victoire's neck, landing on a sensitive ridge, behind the startled woman's ear.

She couldn't help it, this time. The moan escaped, unadulterated.

"Ohhhh! Fuck….Hermione….."

Then Hermione nipped once, then her wet lips landed, and she began to suck. Hard.

"Fuck!" Victoire moaned, wound tight as a spring, bucking into the witch above her.

As Hermione lathed her tonged across the sensitive Veela epidermis, the intense sensations caused all of her wetness to pool, between her legs.

She was bucking up, against her, desperately, and they hadn't done anything, barely at all.

She didn't care…she lost control. Her vision was hazing over, like it had in the office.

Only this time, she didn't plan on ignorniting it. The voices saying more….more…need more of her….

The good girl, the proper girl, the former Head Girl. Victoria Weasley, virgin.

She wanted to fuck the daylights out of Hermione, and she wanted it now.

Growling, she pushed Hermione to her back, ready to rip her clothes off, with a feral strength she never exhibited before.

"Wait!" Commanded Hermione, calmly. "Wait, please."

She looked up at Victorie, her eye heavy with emotion.

"Victorie, tell me. Your kind…Veela. Once they find their one true mate….how do they initiate the bond?"

Breathing heavily, attempting to stay in control, she answered, A kiss…of mutual desire."

"Correct. Tell me then, how does the Veela seal the bond?"

Victorie looked down, lust coursing through her, tiring of Hermione's games. "They make love."

"Right. So if a Veela, and their mate, bond and seal….what happens if the Veela changes their mind?"

"Impossible. They can't walk away. They'll die."

"Okay. What about the non-Veela mate?"

"I'm trying to remember. Uh, I think they can walk away up through bonding…."

"What if they're sealed?"

"Oh, I think they'll die, too."

Hermione shook her head. "You're a pretty morbid bunch."

"Aren't we though? What, may I ask, is the fucking point of all of this?"

Hermione hand snaked upwards, and gently cupped Victorie's cheek. Against her will, against her logic, she could only feel warmth…adoration.

Love.

She closed her eyes, exhaling.

"Hermione….what are you doing to me?"

"I thought you were smart, Ravenclaw! I'll have to discuss this with Minerva, next year."

She pressed against the dumbstruck blond, and slid her hands underneath the blanket,grabbing Vic's perfect breasts. She pinched the felt nipple with one, and angrily tugged down the shirt near the other in order for her mouth to hlane, so her mouth could latch on the other, and suck. Hard.

"Fuck! Oh Fuck. Oh Fuck..." Victorie babbled incomprehensibly, , praying to get more of Hermione's mouth on her body. "You feel...so good. So fucking..ohh..."

" To answer your questions, What I hope I'm doing, shortly anyway, is sealing, actually."

The blonde's eyes flew open, her heart, racing. "What?" She gasped.

But Hermione's eye were full, and sincere. And chocolate wonderment. She looked at Vic so adoringly, as she offered, "Vic. I couldn't do it to Fleur's child, because I was destined to do it with her child. Don't you see?"

Victorie's mind was spluttering, but her core was clenching. She was growing hot in all the right places, and wet, in the others…. "But," Vic said with the last of her remaining logic, we didn't bond- there was no kiss?"

"You know, I wondered about that, as well. But you said it yourself….it only has to be shared, freely, by the two mates…and given of free will. You Veela do not specify it requires….conscious thought."

Victorie's eyes went wide.

"You're kidding me, right? When we were spooning?" She squeaked.

Hermione shrugged, as best she could, pinned underneath the taller blonde. "I can only surmise. You're very handsy, you know, in your sleep."

Victorie was still labile.

"You're telling me," she ranted, "that the most significant day of my entire life, happened when I was bloody well asleep?"

"It would appear so."

All the pieces fell into place. All the symptoms, all her feelings…..Damn it! She looked down, meaningfully, into the expression laden browns below her.

"Well, if that was the most significant moment in my Veela existence, then I want a bloody Do-Over!" She exclaimed, leaning over, pressing her lips, hard against the woman's puffy lips, below hers.

Her heart was swelling, as she felt such peace. The utter bliss surrounded her, as she felt her "one"; her mate, opening her mouth, willingly, for her. Her mate was allowing Victoire's tongue entrance, offering herself, as the Veela pressed in deep, explored inside, her mouth, her lips…..and moaning with the feeling of having bonded, with her one.

XOXOXOXXOXOXO

EPILOGUE, of sort.

Once again, the beautiful blond found herself behind a stack of papers. The elegant blue eyes drifted upwards, meeting the no nonsense green ones. Victoire asked, "All of these? Bugger. What are these, Minerva?"

"The routine rubbish. Signature page. Ethics statement. Agreement to Proctor, Academic Rigor, Conflict of Interest form."

"Okay, then. No point in dawdling, further." Victoire grabbed the Quill, and with her excellent penmanship, signed with a flourish. She couldn't resist a smile, when she got the the bottom of her last form, noting its identity. smiling when she got to the bottom of this COI form.

ACADEMIC CONFLICT OF INTEREST DISCLOSURE FORM & ATTESTATION

I affirm, as a Professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizadry, in my post as Head of House of Ravenclaw and, Professor of Charms Education, that I have read the School's Conflict of Interest and Commitment Policy and its related guidelines, and have completed this form honestly, listing all items requiring disclosure under the policy. Further, I agree to comply with the Policy and to report potential or actual conflicts to my supervisor when they arise.

Signed, on this day, by my hand:

Victoire Weasley Granger April 3, 2021  
Employee's signature Date

Forward your signed disclosure form to your supervisor.


End file.
